The difference between a journey and a pilgrimage is this: the destination is the purpose of a journey while the process is the purpose a pilgrimage. Each step is sacred.
Last year I came down with my annual bout of winter bronchitis. As an asthmatic, I'm particularly susceptible to bronchial infections. My husband, who also got sick, had it for three months. We canceled everything, including church.
We are members of St. Paul's Episcopal Church in Fayetteville. Since we couldn't go to church, the Rev. Suzanne Stoner brought communion and church to us, which really touched us and helped us feel more connected.
My husband recovered from his illness, and I felt better during the day, but still had a terrible cough at night. I went to the doctor several times for antibiotics and steroids, but the medicine didn't help. After six months, my doctor recommended I see a pulmonologist.
The appointment with the pulmonologist -- three months later -- began with an hour of breathing tests and a chest X-ray and ended with a shocking diagnosis. The doctor told me I had Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disorder, with permanent lung damage. The disease is progressive and irreversible with no known cure, he said.
He asked if I had any questions, and I was too stunned to think of anything to ask.
After the diagnosis I learned everything I could about the disease, which is the third leading cause of death in the United States. It is nicknamed the "smoker's disease," and the main recommendation for slowing the progression is to quit smoking. That was no help, because I don't smoke. The average time from diagnosis to death is five years, but some people have lived with the disease for 20 years or more, I learned.
Before this diagnosis, I thought about death frequently. I'm not morbid about it, but I am deeply interested. This interest stems from a near-death experience I had at 26. I was an atheist, and the near-death experience changed my belief instantly when I found myself merged with God's love and power. For years I thought I was the only person who had died and returned, and I did not know what it meant. But I did know that I was sent back for a reason.
In my 30s, I found the research of Raymond Moody on near-death experiences and discovered I was not the only one who had had this experience. All near death experiencers return with a strong sense they are here for a reason. I later came to understand everyone -- not just those who experience near-death -- is here for a reason.
As a result of the diagnosis I was compelled to look realistically at my life and death, and a beautiful, peaceful acceptance came over me. At 67, I have outlived most my family, and to me each day is a gift. Carlos Castaneda talks about death as our ally, and describes death as always being beside us. Eastern traditions teach us that contrasts make our lives more whole and integrated, so an awareness of our mortality has the potential to make us feel more alive and in the present moment.
I found myself focusing on what matters in life and what I want to do with the time I have left. Clearly, one of the top priorities is to take care of my health. I was committed to taking the medication prescribed by the doctor, but I wanted to see what else I could do. I reached out to friends and family for support, and people made suggestions about alternative approaches. Every day was filled with healing activities. Each of session and approach became a step on the pilgrimage.
St. Paul's has a Healing Touch ministry that is available to anyone in our community, and I took advantage of that. I also went to a chiropractor, an acupuncturist, qi gong classes, meditation classes, gave up gluten and dairy, began using essential oils, and went to an energy healer. The people who worked with me frequently said, "I don't think you have COPD, I'm just not sensing it." One friend said, "I am praying for your full health and well-being, and I have a vision that the next time you go to the doctor he says, 'I must have misdiagnosed you.'" Something about that vision felt right to me, and so I envisioned that in my meditations.
I learned that singing and walking have both been found to slow or halt the progression of the disease. I love to sing and I love to walk, so I began doing both on a regular basis. My health began to improve dramatically. I felt better than I have in years, and have been full of energy, optimism and inner peace.
Last month I returned to the pulmonologist. I had a long list of questions about treatments to try. After several questions he said, "Look, you don't have COPD. You have chronic asthma. It is not progressive and maybe even slightly reversible." Once again I was stunned. Essentially I heard him say, "I misdiagnosed you."
On this pilgrimage I now take the next steps to health and life. The rational part of me explains this turnaround as miscommunication on his part. But I know he explicitly said in the first visit, "You have COPD, and it is progressive and irreversible." The spiritual part of me explains this in terms of the power of prayer, love, intention and community support. But really, it is all a mystery.
I was very aggressive in finding ways to deal with my prognosis, and I got lucky. I received the gift of having to face my mortality once again in my life, and I also have the gift of not being ill.
Not everyone is so lucky. I have friend with a serious terminal illness whose faith is stronger than mine, and who has incredible loving support. There is no likelihood she will have a "misdiagnosis" or an improvement in her health. Yet she is an inspiration to many. She is focused on being loving, giving and authentic. She created a group called "Heaven Bound" for those diagnosed with terminal illness. I believe we are all heaven bound, but a serious illness really brings that to the foreground. And I would never want to communicate that someone who gets healed is more spiritual than another. It's just not true.
I hope that I can hold on to the sense of sacred pilgrimage that I gained from this experience. My prayer is that each of us can see and feel the sacredness of every step on this pilgrimage, whether we are feeling healthy and whole, or whether we know we are heaven bound due to a terminal illness.
NAN Religion on 12/13/2014